Unchanging
by Sentimental Star
Summary: **COMPLETE** Wherein Eustace is idiotically noble and Peter makes a promise he should have long ago…EDIT: CHAP. 2 POSTED!--Brotherfic. Book and Moviebased.--
1. It's Elementary

**WARNING:** As stated below, major angst to follow (not to mention some serious hurt/comfort in the second chapter)—you are forewarned!

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C. S. Lewis and Walden Media.

_**Author's Note:**_ Hi, Everyone! ::snorts amusedly:: Would you believe this fic was inspired in part by my excited mother when she came back from the _Sherlock Holmes_ movie several weeks ago? I really wanted to have Eustace say to Edmund, "It's elementary, my dear cousin…" and not realize where it was actually from. And well…this fic sort of evolved from there. It's the latest addition to my _Brother Lessons_ series, and unlike my previous stories in this story arc, I'm planning on making it a two-shot! In spite of the inspiration, it (like most of my stories) is rather full of angst, especially this first chapter (though, the next chapter isn't exactly light-hearted, either). I hope you enjoy it!

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_ Wherein Eustace is idiotically noble and Peter makes a promise he should have long ago…(Book and Moviebased) (Brotherfic) (_NO_ Slash)

"_**Speech"**_

_**/Personal Thoughts/**_

_**Memories (Italics)**_

Peter's Age: 17

Edmund's Age: 14

Lucy's Age: 12

Eustace and Jill's Ages: 11

_Timeframe: Six months after _The Silver Chair

_Unchanging_

_By Sentimental Star_

**Unchanging**

_Chapter One: It's Elementary_

It first happened a year before his cousins had ever entered Narnia:

"_Older brothers are bothers, aren't they?"_

In later years (and after his own dramatic transformation), Eustace would come to recognize, much to his bemusement, that it had been his own twisted up way of trying to make friends with his second youngest cousin:

_There was a suspicious sniffle and Edmund scrubbed his arm across his face where he sat facing the wall of his bedroom. "How would you know?" he mumbled._

_For the moment, Eustace ignored the distinctly thick quality of his cousin's voice. He would tease Edmund about how crying was for girls later—he was much more interested in his current line of questioning. "It's elementary, my dear cousin--"_

_And Edmund had to hold back an involuntary snort of laughter as Eustace parroted a phrase he would surely be horrified to learn was from __The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes__._

_Eustace, however, continued to steadfastly ignore him. "Older brothers __always__ think they're better than younger brothers," he failed to notice Edmund's shoulders suddenly tensing. "They __always__ think they know more than you do and they __always__ have to be __right__. They __always__ order you around and expect you to listen to them without question. They think they're…" here, he shuddered dramatically, "__gods__ when they really aren't. It's a fact of nature. Quite frankly, __I__ think they're a menace," he turned back to his cousin at this point, not quite through pontificating, and completely missed the hard set of his jaw. "Let's face it, Ed, you'd be much better off without that sorry excuse for a--"_

_CRACK!_

_Pain exploded in Eustace's sinuses and with an unearthly howl, the younger boy fell backwards onto the floor, clutching his freely bleeding nose._

_Edmund stood above him, fist clenched, knuckles bruised, and shoulders and chest heaving angrily. "No one…" and his voice wavered dangerously, "__no one__ has the right to say those things about Peter except for __me__!"_

_Then he fled the room, leaving a dumbfounded Eustace in his wake._

(End Flashback)

The memory of that day still made him wince in remembered pain when he thought about it. Even now his nose wasn't really straight, but Eustace had changed enough to realize he deserved every bit of pain that came with it—no matter what Ed may say to the contrary.

Ed was the reason he stood here now, actually, in front of the doorway that led into Peter's room.

He had come over to introduce Jill to his cousins earlier this afternoon, right after they had all gone to church. He'd walked into his cousins' house to find Peter and Edmund…well, not screaming at each other (his cousins never screamed), but certainly, very unhappy with one another:

"…_Lion's __Mane__, Peter…!"_

_Jill jumped at the overly loud voice as Eustace helped her out of her good frock._

_Eustace grimaced and glanced inquiringly at Lucy, who had let them in. His youngest cousin returned the look with a grimace of her own._

"…_I find you in front of a recruiting station—after looking for you for three __hours__, I might add—and you expect me to think--!"_

"_It's __not__ what you think!"_

_Well, that was Peter. Funny, he'd never heard him so much as raise his voice to Edmund before (not that he was often around to hear it)—even __before__ Narnia had changed them._

"_How long have they been at this?" Eustace whispered to Lucy, hanging up their coats._

_Lucy grimaced again. "Two days," she whispered back, accepting the plate of cookies Jill had brought with her._

_Eustace's eyes widened. "Two __days__?" he hissed._

"_Isn't…isn't that __normal__, Scrubb? I mean…" Jill trailed off hesitantly._

_Eustace shook his head. "Not for those two."_

_Lucy frowned worriedly in the direction of the den, where the raised voices were still coming from. "No," she agreed quietly, "it's not."_

"_Then what was it, Peter?" Edmund's voice reached them again, sounding slightly incredulous. "A gamble? A whim? A bloody hare-brained scheme to avoid University applications?"_

_Eustace heard Jill valiantly try to stifle a giggle, his friend clearly very aware this wasn't a matter for laughter. Frowning even more than Lucy, Eustace turned back to his youngest cousin, "Is Peter planning on attending University?"_

_Lucy hedged. "Ed wants him to," she replied finally._

_Eustace scowled. "Peter, I take it, doesn't."_

_Lucy dropped her eyes, but nodded her head. Jill awkwardly rested an arm around her shoulders, uncertainly patting one in comfort._

_Eustace sighed, anger dissipating. "Have you thought of interrupting them? Ed, at least, sometimes tends to be a little hot-headed…" he smirked faintly, "at least when it comes to Peter." And, oh, how well he knew that._

_Lucy raised an eyebrow, but let that interesting tidbit of information slide. "What are you planning to do, Eustace?"_

_Eustace shrugged. "This," and proceeded to march in the direction of the den, the girls scurrying after him._

"_But, Eustace--" Lucy began._

_Eustace turned and fixed her with a surprisingly honest stare. "Peter can't do this, Lu. Not like this. It'll destroy Edmund."_

_Thought, but not added (and still felt nevertheless) was, /Not to mention you./_

_Before either of the startled girls could get a word in edgewise, Eustace turned and entered the room, pointedly clearing his throat, "You know…it's rather rude to greet your guests with a shouting match…"_

_Jill, who had been intending to remark on how noble he was acting, winced and hurried into the den, Lucy on her heels._

(End Flashback)

Needless to say, were it not for Peter's timely intervention or the appearance of the girls, Edmund would have once again knocked him flat.

But, he thought with a wince, gingerly touching his nose, he might not have minded so much. At least it would have forced Edmund to release some of the pent up tension that had clearly been building up for a while now.

Hence why he stood outside of Peter's door and not Edmund's. He might have been willing to risk his cousin's wrath in the heat of a fight, but he wanted no part in the breakdown afterwards, once Edmund had cooled down sufficiently to do so.

His cousins never argued, anymore, over petty things.

Lucy and Jill were with him now, trying to get Edmund to talk, and Eustace gladly left them to it. He had another mission for himself in mind.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked soundly on Peter's wooden door.

"Go away," the retort was harsh, grating, and rather strangled, all things considered.

Eustace winced. He had been so concerned about Edmund's possible reaction that he completely forgot Peter could often be twice as emotional as his younger brother.

Resigning himself to his fate (and the possibility of a very messy reaction once he was through), Eustace more or less forced the door open and shoved his way inside.

He ducked just in time to avoid a pillow launched directly at his head. "I _said_, go--!"

Eustace raised an eyebrow at the furious-looking Peter who stood in the center of his room, holding his ground and keeping his face impassive, but mentally gulping (Lion's Mane, High Kings were _scary_ when they were angry). Without a word, he held up the pillow he had snatched out of the air.

Peter's reaction would have been comical were it not for the botches of red highlighting his cheeks. For several moments he merely stood there, dumbfounded, staring at his cousin. Every once in a while he shut or opened his mouth, struggling to find the proper words to express his surprise.

"Oh," he muttered at last, as his anger effectively fizzled out, "I thought you were…"

"You thought I was Ed," Eustace stated rather matter-of-factly.

"…Yeah," Peter acknowledged faintly.

Eustace gave a noncommittal grunt and firmly shut the door behind him, stalking over to replace the pillow he had rescued on the bed. He surveyed the room around him a moment, taking in his surroundings, before giving a snort and abruptly swiveling to face Peter. "Edmund loves you, you know," stated bluntly and with very little preamble.

Tiredly, Peter scrubbed his face. "I know," his voice cracked.

Eustace raised his eyebrow again. "Do you?" he asked mildly.

It was Peter's turn to raise an eyebrow—and he lifted them both, edging on polite disbelief. "Yes, I'd rather say so."

Eustace's gray eyes hardened. "Then tell me something, Peter, do you know how many times you've made him cry?"

For a moment, Peter looked completely taken aback—whatever he had been expecting Eustace to say, it clearly was not that. As the first flicker of pain, and worry, flitted across Peter's countenance, Eustace, for a moment, wished he could take his harshly spoken words back—but _only_ for a moment.

Peter's blue eyes narrowed. "What has that got to do with anythi--"

Impatient, and hurting for Edmund, Eustace snapped, interrupting him, "Answer me, Peter! Do you?"

Inside, Eustace was mildly shocked by how protective he felt over Edmund—Lucy, too, for that matter. He was also rather stunned by how _angry_ he was feeling on their behalf. He supposed in some ways he understood it—they had been more his family in the past two years than his parents had during his entire life. But that did not stop his mind from reeling, /Have I really changed so much?/ he wondered.

Peter had apparently reached the same—or a similar—conclusion, for his face had softened, and Eustace felt his own face turn red under that gentle look. "You're doing this for Ed," it wasn't a question.

Embarrassed, his anger effectively quashed, Eustace scowled at his oldest cousin before looking away. "Maybe," he grumped, but was quick to add, "You still haven't answered my question."

Peter sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose, and slumped tiredly down on the bed. "No," he finally admitted, nearly inaudibly, "I don't."

This time, Eustace really _did_ regret his harsh tone. He only hoped that Peter understood he was acting this way because he hated seeing his cousins—all of them, really—so upset. (Actually, he didn't _really_ want Peter to know, because that would just be too embarrassing, but he wasn't about to take his words back now.)

"And, anyway, what makes you think _you _do?"

Eustace, in spite of Peter's abruptly hard tone, made a small noise of amusement. He had expected this. Edmund _was_ Peter's younger brother, after all. "I don't _think_ anything, Peter. I don't even guess." He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck in exasperation at Peter's growing scowl. "Oh, dry up. I'm just _saying_…that you tend to be—used to be—whatever…rather blind where Edmund's feelings are concerned."

"Really?" Peter's voice was sarcastic. "Do tell."

The tone rolled right off of him. "Guess," Eustace retorted shortly, turning away and vigorously rubbing his nose.

Peter laid a frustrated glower on his cousin, and would have told him _exactly_ what he could do with his guessing game…when he noticed the younger boy's actions. "Ed punched you," he stated, sounding rather surprised (even as a small, very guilty part of him felt a little vindicated), "…didn't he?"

Eustace scowled, causing Peter to give a small, startled laugh, and gave his nose one last, hearty rub as he turned back to his eldest cousin. What he said next immediately quelled all laughter, "Today? No. A year before he ever set foot in Narnia? Yes."

It garnered exactly the type of reaction Eustace had anticipated: as their current discussion and all its implications coalesced and registered, Peter drew his breath in sharply. "He…he _what_? He hit you over…over…"

"You, Peter," Eustace retorted softly. "Four years ago, Edmund hit me over you. Over something…unpleasant…I said about you. Hit me jolly hard, too…" mumbled. No need to go into details if Peter wasn't interested; his oldest cousin seemed stunned enough already.

"Four years ago? You're sure?" at Eustace's scowl, Peter's eyes widened. "But he…how could he…we were…we _were_…!"

Eustace heaved an exasperated sigh. "Listen, Peter…clearly, I never knew you four…as well as I know you now. I obviously wasn't there when you went to boarding school, but I know Ed…wasn't like he is today, and that he—and you—used to fight a lot when we were younger. But has it ever once maybe occurred to you that _you_ were the reason he fought at all? That maybe it _wasn't_ just anger, or hurt, or frustration that made him lash out, but also maybe because someone, somewhere, may have insulted you…or otherwise?"

He could see dawning comprehension of his point clearing Peter's face and heaved another, rather more relieved sigh. "Finally! _Lion's Mane_! Ed wasn't kidding when he said you had a thick skull!"

A small, shadowed smile flitted briefly across Peter's lips in reply as he stood up and remarked, "You really _aren't_ like the Eustace I remember, are you?" When said younger boy huffed and scowled, blushing embarrassedly, Peter chuckled sadly and—much to his cousin's chagrin—lightly ruffled his hair, "You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now. Thank you, Eustace. I needed someone to knock some sense into me."

Eustace huffed again and sat down on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing to scowl, "Just bloody well hurry up and make amends with Ed and I'll be happy."

A half-grin crossed Peter's face, "Right," and with a wave he was out the door in search of Edmund.

As soon as his eldest cousin left, Eustace dropped his scowl. Shutting his eyes and tilting his head back to face the ceiling, he whispered, "Please…_please_ let them be all right."

_Tbc._


	2. Unspoken

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C. S. Lewis and Walden Media.

_**Author's Note:**_ I'm finished! _Tra la la_! I'm finished! Well…with my thesis (and my Master's Degree), anyway. And to celebrate, I've decided to post! So, sit back and enjoy the completed version of _Unchanging_!

_**Reviewers:**_ All _17_ of you, thank you!

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_ Wherein Eustace is idiotically noble and Peter makes a promise he should have long ago…(Book and Moviebased) (Brotherfic) (_NO_ Slash)

"_**Speech"**_

_**/Personal Thoughts/**_

_**Memories (Italics)**_

_Unchanging_

_By Sentimental Star_

**Unchanging**

_Chapter Two: Unspoken_

As Peter neared the halfway open door of his little brother's room, he became increasingly aware of the muffled voices within:

"Edmund. Talk to me. You _know_ this won't make it go away…!"

Well, that was Lucy. He winced as he realized his argument with Edmund had hurt Lucy, too. Her voice was just as thick as his had been a few minutes ago.

Ed's was worse: "Just go away, Lu," his voice was husky and strangled and completely lacked all ire. "There's nothing else you can do."

A dull _thud_ reached Peter's ears from inside Edmund's room and his lips twisted into a sad smile that more closely resembled a grimace when he realized Lucy had just hit their brother over the head with a pillow. "Don't you dare give me that rot, Edmund Pevensie! There has to be _something_ I can do!"

He winced even more at Lucy's tearful demand. With a tight face, he slowly made his way over to the doorway and stood there, the scene within twisting his stomach—and heart—into knots.

Edmund lay sprawled across his bed, face buried in the pillow that Lucy _hadn't_ snatched, and he clutched it to his body with such force that his shoulders trembled.

Of course, that may have been due to the (mostly) silent sobs his little brother was trying desperately to repress.

Lucy immediately dropped the pillow she had been holding, her white face stricken. "Oh, _Edmund_…!" she cried, leaning over as tears abruptly poured down her cheeks and gently rubbing his back.

A soft noise by the door drew Peter's attention to the third, almost unnoticed occupant of the room.

She was a young girl—certainly, much younger than Susan and, possibly, Lucy, too. She looked about their cousin's age and, with a sudden flash of insight, Peter realized this was the girl Eustace had wanted to introduce them to.

Now that he was looking at her, the girl's brown eyes flashed to his, surprisingly alert as she took in his rumpled appearance and the careful control on the verge of crumbling as he watched his distraught siblings.

A feather light brush against his arm and she motioned him outside. Peter drew back to let her pass and then followed her to an alcove out of sight from Edmund's door.

As soon as he reached her, she spun around to face him. "Peter?" she inquired carefully, looking for affirmation.

Peter inclined his head. "And you're…Jill…aren't you?" They kept their voices quiet.

She nodded, her strawberry-blond hair brushing against her cheek. "Scrubb wanted to introduce you, only…um…" She bit her lip, a slight flush coloring her cheeks, clearly reluctant to bring up the row that was such a sore spot at the moment.

Peter winced, realizing, once again, that Eustace had been right. He shut his eyes, "I'm sorry," he apologized softly. Then he opened them. "I've been incredibly rude today. It's just-"

Jill waved him off. "It's all right. Scrubb explained it to me." She cautiously surveyed him, taking a closer look at his worn countenance. "And since you're here and Scrubb's not, I'm assuming he successfully made an idiot out of himself trying to comfort you."

Her response startled a reluctant snort of laughter out of Peter. "That's one way to put it, yes."

Jill sighed, muttering something about thick-headed boys with absolutely no sense of tact…before flushing to the roots of her hair as she realized she'd essentially insulted him, as well.

Peter gave her a lopsided grin. "It's all right," he repeated her words back to her, "I tend to be thick-headed, as my brother often reminds me."

"As your brother _and sisters_ often remind you," Lucy's tearful voice came from behind them and they both spun around to face her where she stood in Edmund's doorway.

"Lu…" Peter began, starting towards her.

Lucy shook her head, fixing him with a furious glare (which was rather belied by the tears streaking down her cheeks). "I'm mad at you, Peter Pevensie."

Jill slipped away from him to place an arm around her new friend's shoulder. Peter winced. "I know. I'm sorry."

Lucy's lips quivered and she pressed them tightly together in a thin line. "You don't even know what this is doing to us, do you?" she demanded.

Peter winced again and remained silent.

No. He didn't. But he did have a fair idea. He somehow thought apologizing again wouldn't help, though.

Jill hushed Lucy, urging her forehead down to rest against her neck. "No anger, Lu," she murmured. "No anger…or you may just regret that for the rest of your life."

Lucy stiffened. Peter frowned. Neither made a sound.

Jill glanced up at Peter, shrugging apologetically. "I'm sorry. I know it's probably not my place to interfere, but I have a brother, too. An _older_ brother, and he's already part of the RAF." As she spoke, her arm tightened around Lucy, but she didn't look away from Peter…or his (slightly stunned) gaze. "I was so mad at him, I remember, when he went away. I wouldn't speak to him for days, and when we went to the train station…" her voice softened, "I forgot to say goodbye."

Lucy's breath caught in her chest. "He didn't…oh, he _didn't_, Jill!" Her heart was hurting for her newly acquired friend.

Jill gave them both a lopsided smile. "No. He didn't. He's all right now, just a little homesick. But for a while there he had been declared missing in action, and whenever I think of that time…" she swallowed, and pressed a hand to her heart, "it always hurts." She graced Peter with another lopsided smile and gave Lucy a firm squeeze, "I'm only saying this because I know how uncertain war can be. But then…" this time she really did raise Lucy up from her shoulder and smiled warmly and fully at her, looking between the older girl and Peter, "you two—and Susan and Edmund—know that better than anyone, don't you?"

For three full seconds, Lucy and Peter stared at her, stunned speechless. Two seconds later, they were still gaping and Jill groaned, smacking a hand to her forehead, "Eustace didn't tell you, did he?"

Both jaws snapped shut simultaneously and brother and sister vigorously shook their heads, causing her to laugh in slight embarrassment, tinged with disbelief, "Well, it's not like we've had a chance to explain it today. The short version of it is…_yes_, I've been to Narnia. Ugh. Of all the times for Scrubb to go noble on me…"

At this, Peter's tired face filled with gravity, "My lady, if my royal cousin has in any way offended you-"

Jill laughed again—brightly—waving her hands as a slight blush coated her cheeks, "No, no, it's fine! He's done nothing of the sort! I just wish he'd explained it to you so we wouldn't be standing here when _you're_ supposed to be _in there_…" and she indicated the direction of Edmund's room with a wave.

Peter froze as he realized Edmund had probably heard their entire conversation and, therefore, knew he was nearby.

"Lu," his voice came out as a croak, "Lu, how is-?"

"I think you should talk to him, Peter," Lucy interrupted softly. She set her jaw. Before Peter even registered her movement, she was there, hugging his ribs as tightly as she dared. Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his chest, "Don't you dare break his heart again!"

Peter coughed and cleared a throat gone tight with emotion. "I won't," he promised thickly, patting her on the shoulder.

IOIOIOIOIOI

…Which was all well and good, until he was once again standing in the doorway—alone this time—watching his little brother's entire body shudder with barely restrained sobs.

Quietly gulping air into lungs that did not seem to want to expand, Peter hesitantly crossed the room, stumbling halfway and cursing softly as he suddenly collided with a haphazard pile of history books.

He froze, balancing on one foot, as Edmund forcefully stated around a choked cry, "Go _away_, Lucy!"

Peter pressed his lips firmly together, in hopes of staving off their trembling, before massaging feeling back into his bruised appendage and carefully limping over to the bed. Gently, he draped his hand across the back of Edmund's neck, resting it there as he waited (and hoped) for Edmund to acknowledge him.

He did not have to wait long: Edmund drew in a sharp breath, rolling up and onto one side as he squinted up at his comforter.

Immediately, his younger brother blanched, and Peter felt his own eyes burn as the fourteen-year-old quickly sat up and scrubbed away his tears. "Pe-Peter…" Edmund turned from him sharply, keeping his back turned. "I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't realize…" he coughed and cleared his throat in a vain attempt to regain his equilibrium, "I didn't realize it was you."

Peter merely shook his head. Once. Twice. And sat down on the mattress beside his brother with eyes too old for his body. "How many times have you done that?" he murmured brokenly, reaching out to touch his brother's arm in a wordless plea.

Edmund sniffed and scrubbed vigorously at his cheeks with the heel of his palm, "Done what?" his voice was thick and scratchy, but mostly steady; he still did not turn around.

Peter smiled sadly and reached up to lightly nudge Edmund's stubborn chin, urging his gaze back around. Gently, he touched the puffed up skin below Edmund's eye, causing his little brother to start. His face twisted into an expression of barely restrained sorrow, "Done _that_. Ended up crying after we had an argument and then hid it the moment I found you."

Edmund glanced away. "More times than I probably should have," he muttered, catching an errant tear with his thumb.

Peter's throat tightened and guilt welled up within his chest. "I'm sorry," he choked, squeezing his eyes shut as Eustace's words were unknowingly confirmed by his brother. "I am so, so sorry."

Edmund turned back around to glower at him in confusion. "Why are _you_ sorry? It's hardly _your_ fault I'm an overemotional idiot."

"But _I should have known_! You've _always_ been more sensitive about things like this, and I just dismissed you!"

Edmund opened his mouth to give an angry retort (though, indeed, it was born more out of frustration than anger)…then slowly shut it, narrowing his eyes at Peter and frowning pensively. "You're not just talking about today—or yesterday—or even the past four years…are you?"

Mutely, Peter shook his head. Sliding his hand off Edmund's cheek and letting it fall into his lap, he gazed down wordlessly at his upturned palms. The air between them grew taut with the younger teen's frustration and confusion. "Peter…we've gone over this already. I thought we were well past this."

"We _were_ well past this!" Edmund jumped at his brother's sudden shout. Peter's voice broke, and all the fire went out of it as it softened, "We _were_…I _thought_…we were…" The older boy's voice shook, "I thought we got everything bad between us out of the way; I thought I _understood_…!"

"Peter," Edmund's words came in short, sharp breaths as he tried to speak around the bands constricting his chest, "Peter, calm down. You're not explaining yourself clearly. _What_ did you think you understood?"

"You," Peter reached out as if to touch his face again, then curled his hand into a fist and dropped it back into his lap as sobs hitched in his chest. "I thought I understood _you_. I thought I knew _why_ you went to the Witch. I thought I knew _why_ you were so angry before we got into Narnia; why you hurt in ways I could never seem to soothe. I thought I knew why you _hated_ me-!"

"_Peter_!" Edmund was standing now, a hand on his hip, and scowling fiercely. "First of all…I _never_ hated you. And I'd thank you very kindly to get that thought out of your head _right now_. Secondly…_where the bloody hell is this coming from_? We've spent the past nineteen years getting reacquainted with each other and never once have you even _mentioned_ something like this. So why-"

"That's exactly the _point_, Edmund!" Peter burst out. "I _didn't_ mention it. I never spoke about it even _once_. I _ignored_ you and went on my merry way thinking that everything would be perfectly all right: we'd made up before, why shouldn't we now? But I _hurt_ you! I _know_ I hurt you!"

Edmund glared at him incredulously. "Pete…what the bloody hell-?"

Peter shoved himself up violently off the bed and started pacing. "Oh, _come on_, Edmund…!"

"What, damn it? _What_? If you don't give me a straight answer soon, so help me, Peter, I'll-!"

"I'm talking about your bruises! I'm talking about the fact that you've kept mum for four years—four _years_—about where they came from and why you had them! _I'm talking about the reason Eustace had to come to me tonight instead of you_!"

IOIOIOIOIOI

Edmund was scared. Absolutely petrified. He understood with sudden frank, startling clarity why Peter was so desperately unhinged, stricken in a way he had ever only seen once before.

And this time, there was no sparking wand through his gut to justify it.

Peter knew. By Aslan…_Peter knew_.

He had to grapple with his voice, "How…how did you…?"

"I guessed," Peter's voice cracked, "I guessed, Edmund. And Eustace…he helped—he helped _a lot_…" Peter's voice was breaking up more swiftly now, and he stood in the center of his little brother's room with shaking hands, desperately wanting to draw nearer to Edmund but not daring.

The guilt was overwhelming.

Edmund shut his eyes, unable to move. He wasn't sure he could, even if he tried.

Peter's voice broke again. "How many years, Ed?"

Edmund took in a trembling breath and folded his hands tightly in his lap, opening his eyes and averting his gaze. "Since we started boarding school," he confessed softly.

"Boarding school? But that's…" Peter's brow furrowed as he did some quick arithmetic in his head. His eyes widened and his face went white. "Six years," he breathed, weakly sinking down onto the mattress beside his brother. He abruptly snapped his eyes up to Edmund's, "You've kept this to yourself for _six years_?"

His little brother shifted uncomfortably, frowning intently down at his hands. "Actually, I'd say it's more like eight."

Peter's face turned an ashen gray. "What?" he choked. "But that's…" He tightly shut his eyes. "Since you were six?" he asked, though, indeed, it was more of a statement.

"Since I was six," Edmund confirmed softly. "Since _you_ started boarding school." He shrugged helplessly. "As I said, it's been a while."

"Edmund…" Peter's voice cracked. "Why…why didn't you ever _tell_ me?"

Edmund looked away. "I didn't want to worry you," he murmured. "Besides…it's over now. It doesn't matter anymore."

Peter gave him a look of complete disbelief. "It doesn't _matter_? Of _course_ it matters, Edmund! You know I would've-!"

"That's exactly it, Peter," Edmund replied, turning back to him, "you _would have_. But don't you see? I didn't _want_ you to." He smiled grimly, with little real humor, "You know I've always been horribly stubborn."

"No," Peter shook his head. Sliding off the bed, he firmly grasped Edmund by his elbows and knelt in front of him, giving the younger boy a not-so-gentle shake. "You're a fighter. You are _my _fighter."

Edmund's smile softened. "You haven't called me that in a while," he murmured.

Peter's throat tightened all over again. "I know," he managed to get out, voice rather strangled. "Edmund…listen," his throat closed up, "_please_ listen…"

Edmund winced at the plea his brother's voice broke on, but gave the older boy his full attention.

"I promise…" his blue eyes (that had gone gray) were stormy and tearful, but remained determinedly locked on Edmund's own, "I _promise_ I won't ignore you…or your feelings…like that again. _I swear it, Ed_."

"You…" Edmund's voice cracked, and rapidly thickened, "Really? But what about…?"

Peter's gaze grew fierce and he squeezed his brother's elbows to emphasize his point, "_Especially_ about joining the army."

With that promise, Edmund's overwhelmed mind reacted in the only way it knew how—he dropped his face into his hands and very nearly burst into tears.

"Don't," Peter's voice cracked again and he raised his hand to gently push back his brother's hair, "oh, Edmund, _please_ don't. You've already…" his voice caught.

Edmund gave what must have been half-snort, half-sob. "You bloody blockhead," another sound, this one definitely more sob than laugh, "don't you realize that's all you needed to say?"

After that, Peter easily caught the fist intended for his head.

_The End_


End file.
